


Talk To Me

by peachgrove



Series: The Epilepsy Diaries [1]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Angst, Crying, Epilepsy, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Neurological Disorders, Seizures, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:29:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23256949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachgrove/pseuds/peachgrove
Summary: “Ah, Ar...Arm…” Timmy grumbles out as he tries to reach for Armie. The recognition in Timmy’s eyes tells Armie he’s not yet in the seizure, but is surely seconds away from it. He has to work fast.“I know, baby. You don’t have to talk right now. I’m gonna move you out into the hallway and get you on your side, okay? The bathroom is too small for this,” Armie clarifies, though he’s almost positive that Timmy isn’t comprehending anything he’s saying.orTimmy has a seizure at dinner with his family, and Armie is left picking up the pieces.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Series: The Epilepsy Diaries [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1723651
Comments: 18
Kudos: 186





	Talk To Me

“Whoa, hey. You alright?” Armie asks as Timmy stumbles into him when they reach the top of the stairs, now standing in front of the door of Timmy’s parents’ apartment. Nicole and Marc had invited the two over for dinner since Pauline was in town, and, despite Timmy’s earlier complaints of a headache, they happily agreed.

Timmy blinks hard, straightening himself up before replying, “Yeah, just...still have that headache.”

Armie frowns. Of course, the aspect of Timmy having a headache will always make Armie assume the worst: an impending seizure. And Armie was sure to voice this concern to Timmy before they left the safety of their own home, but Timmy had simply brushed him off like he always had.

“A headache doesn’t automatically mean I’m gonna have a seizure, Armie,” Timmy had protested. And usually, he was right. But that didn’t make Armie’s anxiety regarding Timmy’s epilepsy any smaller, even after being together for five years.

Armie’s pounding heart makes him ask one more time before they knock on the door, knowing that it might spark an argument but also knowing that Timmy’s health is far more important than a disagreement.

He gives Timmy one last chance. “Are you sure you’re okay? We can turn back now, babe. Go back and watch a movie. I’m sure your parents will understand. And if you have a seizure, it happens, but at least you’ll be safe at--”

“Armie,” Timmy interjects, staring at the ground. His voice is calm, collected. Armie can tell he’s trying his very hardest not to get frustrated with him. “Please, don’t.”

Armie worries his lip between his teeth, wishing that his lover wouldn’t be so stubborn for once in his life. But before he allows himself to get frustrated as well, he whispers, with a sigh, “Okay...okay, fine.”

He places a hand at the small of Timmy’s back as the younger goes to knock heavily on the door. Timmy’s expression looks pained, and Armie wants nothing more than to ease it. But how can he when Timmy refuses the help?

Nicole soon opens the door, a bright smile lighting up her entire face as she’s met with the sight of the two. She immediately leaps forward with a mock gasp and engulfs Timmy in a bone-crushing hug.

“My babies!” she yells as she moves her way over to pull Armie into a hug, too. She had always been that way, accepting Armie as one of her own. Always introducing Armie as her son. It made Armie almost forget about his own parents who had disowned him after he’d finally had the courage to tell them he liked men. Almost.

“Oh, Armie. So good to see you!”

“So good to see you, too, Mom!” Timmy says next to them sarcastically. Nicole scoffs and swats at him as a sneaky grin spreads across his face.

“Oh, stop it, you. I just talked to you on the phone yesterday.”

She eventually invites them in and Armie’s nose is immediately hit with the smell of French cuisine omitting from the kitchen. As usual, the food is yet to be done, so the family passes the time by striking up conversation in the kitchen while they wait. 

Armie doesn’t miss the way Timmy has to sit down on the stool at the counter because he’s not feeling well enough to be standing. He almost wants to call Timmy out for it, right here in front of his parents. Just to spite him. Just to show him how seriously his epilepsy should be taken. But in order to avoid the argument that was sure to unfold had he done that, he keeps his mouth shut.

By the time Pauline arrives 30 minutes later, having known her mother’s habits of preparing food behind schedule, the table is ready to be set.

As Armie helps Nicole lay the napkins and silverware, Pauline pulls her brother into a sweet hug, kissing his cheeks before saying, “How are you, baby brother? Doing well?”

Timmy silently nods. Armie sees the worry that lines Pauline’s face as well.

They soon sit down to eat, laughing happily and catching up on each other’s lives. Just normal banter. Though the only one not participating is Timmy, who picks around at his food and smiles politely.

During the meal, Timmy has multiple absence seizures, completely zoning out as he blinks rapidly and his fingers clench his fork rhythmically. Armie notices--everyone notices. But no one says a word. Armie simply rubs Timmy’s thigh under the table until he comes out of it, never having known he even had one. The whole family knows that the last thing Timmy wants is to bring light to his disorder, and, having dealt with his epilepsy for years, they all know it’s best to continue their conversation as if nothing happened.

That still doesn’t stop Armie’s heart from clenching when he sees a sad look cross Nicole’s face every time Timmy has an absence. The pain she felt for her son's epilepsy had been with her from day one, when he suddenly fell out on the subway at age nine right before her eyes. Armie has only heard the story once, but that’s all he needed to hear, for the way Nicole describes everyone’s indifference to her pleading cries of help, please help her baby, truly makes him sick to his core.

“Excuse me. I’m just gonna...go to the bathroom real quick,” Timmy suddenly blurts out, standing up from the table before anyone has time to reply. Armie looks up at him worriedly, dying to ask him if he’s okay, but knowing he’ll probably get the cold shoulder in return after asking for what has to be the tenth time.

Luckily, Nicole asks for him. “What’s wrong, baby doll?”

“Just need a second,” Timmy vaguely responds as he scoots by Armie.

Armie shoots a look at Nicole but doesn’t say a word as Timmy makes his way down the hallway and shuts the door to the bathroom.

“How’s he been doing?” Pauline asks Armie, clearly referring to Timmy’s seizures.

“He’s been alright,” Armie answers vaguely as well, not sure if Timmy wants his family to know something as personal as the status of his epilepsy, which he is fully capable of monitoring himself at this point.

It’s not even two minutes later when the table collectively hears a loud thud come from the bathroom.

“Timmy?!” Nicole immediately calls.

“Shit!” Armie curses without thinking, instantly making his way over to the bathroom, the rest of Timmy’s family close behind.

“Tim?” Armie says politely before opening the door, just in case it’s nothing. Just in case he’s fine.

But, no. He is so far from fine. Armie opens the door to find Timmy curled up in a ball on the floor of the bathroom. He’s shaking, violent shivers racking his body, as he cries into the bath mat underneath him. He looks so small and broken, the sight absolutely shattering Armie’s heart. He is quick to drop to his knees to aid his lover.

“Oh my god!” Nicole shouts, clearly distressed at the sight of her son. Her panic causes Timmy to start to shift uncomfortably, so Armie keeps his voice as calm as possible.

“No, no, no. It’s okay, baby. You’re alright,” Armie hums as he strokes Timmy’s cheek and pushes his curls off his sweaty forehead. Timmy trembles under his touch, becoming more and more agitated.

Armie hears Marc take Nicole into another room as she becomes increasingly upset at the state of her son. He can see why it’s hard for her to witness a grand mal seizure after years of Armie and Timmy dealing with them on their own. The sight must be so foreign to her, yet so bitterly nostalgic at the same time.

“Ah, Ar...Arm…” Timmy grumbles out as he tries to reach for Armie. The recognition in Timmy’s eyes tells Armie he’s not yet in the seizure, but is surely seconds away from it. He has to work fast.

“I know, baby. You don’t have to talk right now. I’m gonna move you out into the hallway and get you on your side, okay? The bathroom is too small for this,” Armie clarifies, though he’s almost positive that Timmy isn’t comprehending anything he’s saying.

He gets his arms under Timmy’s tensed form, getting ready to lift him. He’s stiff as a board, but he still groans and tries to push Armie’s hands away from him, not wanting to be touched.

“No, it’s okay, Tim. It’s alright. I’m just moving you, okay?” Armie whispers close by the younger’s ear. Timmy simply sobs in reply.

Pauline steps out of the doorway as Armie lifts Timmy out of the bathroom and into the hallway. He lays the boy on his side and shushes him as he continues to mumble incoherently and reach for Armie, the fear clear in his eyes. He’s terrified.

Armie grabs Timmy’s hand and kisses it. “I think you’re going to go, honey. It’s okay. You can go. I’m not going to leave you,” Armie says, knowing he naturally should be panicking at this moment but sadly having been in this situation far too many times to be.

“Is there anything I can get for him?” Pauline asks from behind Armie, her thumbnail between her teeth.

Armie turns around to face her, reluctant to pull his eyes away from Timmy. “Yeah, could you get a pillow or something to support his head?”

Pauline nods and comes back with one in no time.

Just as Armie slips the pillow under Timmy’s head, a brash cry leaves his throat, a sound so sickening it makes Armie want to puke. Though Armie knows at this point Timmy isn’t conscious of anything anymore and feels no type of pain, it doesn’t make his struggle any more bearable or see, let alone listen to.

The convulsions start soon after that, ugly jerking movements taking over his entire body. His eyes roll back into his head as his neck strains and his head jerks against the pillow, ramming his head into it continuously. His legs flail like he’s throwing a tantrum and his arms lock, fists balled and wrists turned inwards. Loud cries and constant gasping noises leave him as he struggles to breathe with his constricted chest. It’s a heinous sight.

“You’re okay, Tim. It’s alright,” Armie says, remaining calm. 

He knows Timmy can’t hear him, has no clue he’s even speaking at all, but Armie needs the reassurance for himself as well. He wants nothing more than to reach out to Timmy and comfort him, though he wouldn’t even be aware of it, just to hold him and make them both feel okay, but he knows the worst thing he could do for Timmy right now is touch him while he’s seizing. That would most likely result in injury to Timmy, and that’s the last thing Armie wants to do.

“Jesus,” Pauline hisses from behind him as he watches her brother thrash on the ground, struggling for air and letting out high pitched cries.

Timmy’s convulsions become so strong that he flips to his back, causing a gurgling sound to come from him as he almost chokes on his saliva. Armie wants so badly to flip him back on his side for his own safety, but he just can’t touch him. He would risk Timmy dislocating a shoulder or breaking a bone.

Armie keeps an eye on the time, but before he has the time to process it, he sees a dark patch start to form on Timmy’s jeans as he begins to piss himself. He frowns at the sight, knowing Timmy would be absolutely mortified to find out that he had pissed himself in front of his sister in his childhood home as if he was two years old all over again, despite the very obvious fact that he can’t help it. Armie feels so terribly for him.

Another harsh cry leaves Timmy, bordering on a scream, and Armie’s stomach lurches again.

Armie glances at his watch. “We’re coming up on a minute thirty, lovely. You gotta start slowing down for me. Come on, Timmy. Come out of it,” Armie encourages.

“Oh god, Timmy,” Pauline whispers from behind him, her voice filled with tears.

Armie prays that this seizure doesn’t exceed five minutes, for then he’d have to call an ambulance and cause even more distress for the Chalamet family. They don’t need to see their son/brother like that.

Just as Armie feels his concerns might become a very real possibility, Timmy begins to slow, his harsh jerks becoming more untimely spasms as he comes out of the seizure until he eventually stops completely. Armie hesitates just a second before reaching for Timmy, thinking about the possibility of Timmy falling into another seizure.

Finally, harsh gasping noises come from Timmy as he tries to catch his breath, his chest heaving heavily. Armie takes that as a sign that he’s officially out of the seizure and immediately reaches forward to caress the younger’s face.

“Hey, angel,” he whispers as softly as he can. “You did so good, Timmy. So good.”

Timmy doesn’t respond in the slightest, likely not even aware of Armie’s presence. His eyes are lethargic and distant, practically closed as his body takes in the exhaustion the seizure has caused.

Armie grabs the back of Timmy’s head and gently tilts it to the side to let the saliva drain out of his mouth. It’s infused with blood, evidence of Timmy’s tendency to bite his tongue while seizing. 

Timmy gives a weak attempt at pulling away from Armie and sitting up, but Armie quickly places a soft hand on Timmy’s chest and holds him down. “No, don’t try to get up yet, baby. Just relax for a minute.”

Timmy ignores this request and flexes his abdomen, again trying to sit up.

“Hey, stop. You lay down, do you hear me? I’m serious,” Armie says with a but more force. Sometimes he has to be more brash with Timmy when he’s in this state.

He looks up at Pauline who still looks a bit shaken from the whole scene. Armie bets she’s probably even more disturbed than her mother at the sight, for Nicole and Marc tried to keep Pauline from witnessing Timmy’s condition whenever they could. So this wasn’t a very common occurrence.

“Would you mind getting him a fresh pair of sweats or something from his room?” Armie knows Timmy still has some clothes in his childhood room for the times his parents convince him to stay over.

Pauline nods and leaves to grab fresh pants, not batting an eye at the fact that Timmy pissed himself.

While she’s gone, Armie turns back to Timmy, tilting his face towards himself in an effort to get Timmy to acknowledge him. Timmy’s eyes only meet his briefly before they start wandering again.

“Do you know where you are? Timmy, do you know where you are?” Armie asks patiently. He’s always patient with Timmy. Always.

Timmy groans in response.

“Okay,” Armie says as he brushes Timmy’s curls back. “Okay.”

Just as Pauline comes back with a fresh pair of joggers and sweatshirt, Timmy turns his head to the side and vomits up everything he just ate minutes prior all over his parents’ floor. He gags and spits as his stomach clenches again and again, and Armie can’t help but pity him.

“It’s okay. Just get it all out, angel. You’re okay,” Armie comforts, not even flinching at the throw up.

When Timmy is done, he’s shaking so very terribly. And then, out of nowhere, he bursts into tears. Harsh sobs rack his body as he brings his hands up to cover his crumpled face, seemingly unable to stop the flow of intense emotions that hit him all at once. Armie expects it, was waiting for it even, since Timmy typically gets emotional after seizures. It’s not at all uncommon.

Armie moves the younger away from his own puddle of vomit and gathers him into his arms as he continues to sob deeply. His whole body shakes with the force of his cries. Armie sits with his back against the wall as Timmy curls into a ball against his chest and weeps into his neck, soaking his skin with tears. 

He holds him tight, brushing a hand up and down his long spine and rocking the two of them back and forth. “It’s alright. I’ve got you. You don’t have to cry, lovely,” he says sweetly into Timmy’s curls.

Timmy hiccups against his chest, babbling out mumbled words that neither make sense nor sound like words at all, but Armie nods like he understands.

“Shhh, I know, baby. I know,” Armie promises. He’s pretty sure Timmy doesn’t even know why he’s crying.

Feeling Timmy’s hands grip his shirt desperately, Armie assumes he might be coming out of his postictal period. “Do you know who I am?”

Timmy’s cries die down as he sniffles and nods. “Ar…” he tries.

“Do you know where you are?”

A shake of the head. No.

“That’s okay. You’re doing so well.”

“I’m gonna go grab him some water,” Pauline interrupts, Armie almost forgetting she was there.

He nods. “Yeah, that sounds good. No ice, please. Thank you, Pauline.”

When she comes back with the cup of water, Armie holds it to Timmy’s lips as he continues to bury his face in Armie’s neck. “Small sips, Tim. Easy, easy,” Armie says to his lover. Majority of the water runs down Timmy’s chin and soaks Armie’s shirt anyway, but at least he got something in his system.

Eventually, Timmy coughs as he chokes slightly and Armie decides he’s had enough. He then looks up at Pauline apologetically and says, “I’m gonna get him changed now, so…”

Pauline immediately gets the memo and gives an awkward thumbs up. “Right,” she says. “I’ll be in my parents’ room.” And with that, she leaves.

Now it’s just him and Timmy, who’s still breathing shallowly into the crook of his neck. With a small nudge, Armie whispers, “Hey, let’s get you dressed.”

Timmy looks up at him with unsurprising confusion and mumbles out, “What?”

“Let’s get you dressed,” Armie repeats again slowly, nothing but patience in his voice.

Armie removes Timmy’s sweaty shirt from over his head and replaces it with the sweatshirt with no problem. However, once he reaches the button of Timmy’s jeans, the younger’s weak hands grab his own and stops him, followed by a small grunt.

“What’s wrong?” Armie asks.

“Me,” Timmy mumbles.

Armie frowns, not understanding what he means. “You, what?”

“Me.”

This time Timmy accentuates what he means by grabbing the front of his jeans. 

“You want to do it yourself?” Armie wonders.

Timmy nods frantically at that.

Armie shakes his head, making Timmy look up at him before saying, “You need to let me help you, Timmy. You can’t do this by yourself right now, okay?”

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, tears begin to gather in Timmy’s eyes and his bottom lip begins to tremble. “Em’rrassing,” he whimpers, his voice wobbling. Armie’s heart breaks in two.

Armie grabs Timmy’s face in both of his hands and begins quickly wiping the tears away. “No, baby. It’s not embarrassing.”

Timmy squeezes his eyes shut and says, “Is.”

“No, angel, it’s not. I don’t care that you had an accident, okay? I’ve helped you change many times before. I’m your boyfriend. I would never judge you for something you can’t control. It’s not embarrassing, alright? Just let me help you,” Armie assures, placing a kiss on Timmy’s sweet nose.

Timmy seems hesitant but eventually agrees to stop fumbling with his jeans and lets Armie take over, who quickly slips the soaking wet jeans off and replaces them with nice, soft sweatpants.

Armie then brings a still very confused Timmy to his feet and practically holds him up with a hand around his waist as they shuffle their way towards Timmy’s old room. He’s insanely grateful that Timmy’s family doesn’t try to console the boy, since that would simply just overwhelm him.

It’s no surprise to find Timmy’s room in tip-top shape, bed made and all. Nicole surely cleans it regularly. Armie smiles privately at the trophies that his mom insists on keeping that litter Timmy’s book shelves.

Armie settles Timmy into the bed, pulling the blanket up to his chin and tucking a curl behind his ear. “Lay here and rest for a bit, okay?”

Before Armie could even turn around, Timmy whines out, “Stay.”

Armie sits next to him on the bed, giving him a sweet kiss. “I’ll be right back, I promise. I just have to go clean up and talk to your mom.”

Timmy reluctantly lets him leave. Armie cleans up Timmy’s piss and vomit before comforting his family with reassurance of his health and safety. They all decide to stay for the night.

By the time Armie gets back into Timmy’s room, he’s already sound asleep.

\--

When Armie wakes a few hours later at two in the morning, it’s because he feels Timmy stir in his arms. He cracks his eyes open to see Timmy staring up at him, that look of confusion and lack of understanding still covering his face. Armie offers him a smile.

“How’re you feeling, baby?” Armie asks.

Timmy shrugs. “I’m sore, I guess.” That's unsurprising for Armie to hear. While Timmy is seizing, the muscles throughout his entire body are contracting aggressively and continuously, so he typically feels sore afterwards.

Armie’s happy to see he’s much more aware now. “Do you know where you are?”

Timmy seems to contemplate it for a second before saying, “No.”

“We’re at your mom’s,” Armie answers. “Do you know what happened?”

Timmy shakes his head, still confused as to why he’s at his mother’s.

“You had a seizure?” Armie tries.

The look that crosses Timmy’s face makes Armie feel sick. Embarrassment, shame, and true self-hatred. He frowns at Armie. “I did?” he croaks, and god, Armie just wishes there was some way to hold him closer.

“Yeah, you did. But it’s okay. It wasn’t that bad--”

“I ruin everything,” Timmy whimpers before burying his face into Armie’s chest, hiccuping on what he assumes is impending sobs.

“Hey, no. No, no, no. Now you listen to me. You didn’t ruin anything, Timmy. You don’t ever ruin anything. These things just happen and we deal with them.” He hesitates before continuing. “But I will say that when you’re feeling sick, you need to let me know. You can’t be resentful of this when it jeopardizes your health. That’s not the time to be stubborn,” Armie says in all seriousness, needing Timmy to understand the severity. 

Timmy sniffles against him. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. We just have to do better. We have to do better.” Armie is well aware that ‘we’ implies that both of them need to communicate better when it’s really just Timmy that needs to be more vocal, but Timmy is him and he is Timmy. They are one. So what one does, the other does as well.

Timmy is quiet for a few seconds. “Was it bad?” he finally asks.

“We don’t need to talk about that right now. Just get some rest, alright?” Armie says, rubbing large circles into Timmy’s back.

Timmy snuggles closer. “Okay. I love you, Armie.”

Armie sighs happily with all the sincerity in his heart. “I love you, too.

**Author's Note:**

> should i do more parts to this story?


End file.
